Claiming the Dragon King: The Elite Guards Book Two Page 3

Fyra snorted and shook her head. Well, almost no one argued with him, except her. Ciara growled as Blane yanked on the rope, pulling her closer to where he stood as if she was a new pet. Heat enveloped her as their flesh touched. She stood silently as he withdrew a cloak from a bag Fyra handed him. She stiffened as he settled it on her shoulders and placed the hood over her head.

  “Can’t have anyone getting back to your brother that you were seen with us, now can we?”

  “Go to hell,” she snapped icily as she pulled back from his heated touch.

  “I’ve lived in hell long enough to feel comfortable there,” he mused as he pulled back and grabbed her waist as he hoisted her into a saddle. Ciara’s heart hit her stomach as the giant beast began to prance and paw the ground as it felt her unease. Blane mounted behind her, calming the beast with a gentle rub and soft encouragement that he whispered to it. “Calm down, Ciara. Your magic won’t work here, none of it, so cease your struggles. This part of our world is damaged, and that makes you weak,” he purred against her ear, and she turned, immediately regretting it as her cheek touched his lips.

  “I’m not weak, asshole, and how do you know that’s my name?” she asked hesitantly. Magic didn’t work here? Impossible, and yet she couldn’t sift or wield it. She once again cleared her mind, intending to sift away from him, but nothing happened. Her throat tightened as fear wrapped its cold hands around her heart in a vise.

  “Because Ryder has one sister,” he answered softly. “I’ve heard a lot about you, and what you are really like.”

  “From what, rumors? I promise you, I’m way worse than what you heard,” she seethed.

  “You almost sound proud of it,” he uttered as he nuzzled her ear, pushing the cloak away from her skin to touch her flesh as his breath fanned her nape, sending swirls of heat rushing to her stomach. Confusion ignited, her mind grasped on to what was happening, and she swallowed hard against it.

  “I am, I worked hard to build my reputation,” she supplied sharply as her hands struggled to find something to hold on to, only to end up holding onto one of his legs. Powerful muscles bunched beneath his fingers as she forced her body back against his.

  “Scared?” he asked.

  “Of you, never,” she said with a soft shake of her head. “I don’t like horses, and they don’t like me either.”

  “Smart creatures,” he laughed. “Don’t worry, Ciara. You’re no good to me dead. I won’t let you fall. Tell me about your king.”

  “You want to know about my king? He’ll be the one to kill you for taking me. He doesn’t forgive those who trespass on his family or who intend to do his babes harm.”

  “I don’t plan to harm you or them, but him, him I plan to kill,” he growled huskily as his hand wrapped around her waist, securing her against him. “Let’s ride; we should make camp by dawn.” His call to the others sent shouts of agreement and hooves pounding against the ground as they rushed forward.

  Chapter Four

  Ciara was abruptly woken as she felt herself being lowered from the horse. She struggled against the arms that held her, inhaling deeply of the woodsy scent that was pressed against her nose. The hood fell back, dropping from her shoulders as she stared up into beautiful, ocean filled depths. Her lips parted as a gasp escaped from her lungs.

  “We’re at camp,” he explained softly at her puzzled look.

  “Oh,” she replied as she tried to put distance between them. His hands cradled the small of her back, holding her slight weight as she teetered on her heels. She placed her hands on his chest to prevent her from falling face-first against it, and then pulled them away as if the contact had burned her.

  Ciara surveyed the camp as the tents were set up; it was nearly light out which had meant she’d slept through their trek to where they had ended up. Crude tents had been erected as she’d slept. She shivered as the air around her grew chilled, unfamiliar magic pulsing heavily as the wind rustled her hair.

  “Where are we?” she asked softly, her eyes gazing up at him as he watched her from beneath his thick lashes.

  “The Widowlands,” he announced as he directed her to a tent.

  “You’re joking, right?” she asked with high-pitched panic. Her throat tightened as her pulse spiked. He had to be fucking joking.

  “Not at all,” he mused as he pushed her past the flaps and deeper into the darkened interior of the tent. No lights burned, and no light was offered from the moon either. She could just make out what looked like a pile of furs when her eyes began adjusting to the darkness.

  She blinked at the crude bed, covered in furs that lay upon the ground. She started to cross her arms and realized she couldn’t. Her wrists ached; the position he’d tied and bound them in forced her to hold her hands together.

  “Untie me,” she said as she turned around to face him, only to come nose-to-chest with him once again. “Stop that,” she ordered as she stepped back, away from him.

  “I plan to, get in bed,” he grouched, as he pushed her backwards. His eyes stared impassively at her as she shrugged off the cloak. His eyes slowly traveled down her body, taking in the dirty dress she wore. When they lifted at her with a dark look in her eyes, she shrugged.

  “It wasn’t like you allowed me to pack for the trip,” she smarted off, unafraid of him. If he thought his dark mood could strike fear into her, he had another thing coming. She had over one hundred brothers, and most of them were moody and dour as fuck.

  “It’s not the dress that offends,” he warned.

  “What the hell is your problem?” she snapped. “I didn’t ask to be here, remember? Unwilling participant in this foolishness you forced upon me. For the record, I don’t like you either.”

  “Good.”

  “Good,” she replied harshly as she struggled against the ropes, uncaring that it chaffed her flesh. “My hands are numb.”

  “Hold them out,” he demanded.

  She did as he instructed, waiting for him to remove it. His fingers traveled slowly around the raw, red flesh that his rope had created. His fingers worked the knot, slowly untying it until the rope fell from her wrists. She pulled them close to her body, running her own fingers over the raw flesh. Absently, she moved to the bed and then paused, turning to glare at him.

  “I’m not sleeping in the same bed as you,” she pointed out.

  “You think you have a choice, princess?” He tossed the title out like a curse.

  “I’m not,” she snapped as she folded her arms against her chest and gave him a pointed look. “I’m not stupid. I know what happens when a captive sleeps with her captor. Not that girl, never going to be.”

  “I know what you do to men who are stupid enough to fall into your poisonous web, Ciara. You have nothing to fear from me on that front.”

  “Oh, I’m beneath you now?” she laughed soundlessly.

  “Far beneath me,” he retorted.

  “Is that so?” she chuckled. “And tell me, what exactly did you hear about me?” she asked, hiding the sting of his rejection as it irked her that she’d even feel anything so stupid, all things considered.

  “Enough to know you’re everything the Horde stands for, and more.”

  “So you’re not of the Horde?” she questioned.

  The tent was dark enough that his features were hidden, but not enough to hide the disgust that tightened his mouth at her words. He pushed her down, uncaring that every part of her ached. She pulled magic to her, planning to give him a taste of it, only to feel nothing. Panic crept in as she tried to grasp any magic close to her.

  “There’s no magic here either,” he whispered as he guessed at her intent. “It’s called the Widowlands because the men who enter it normally die as they rely on magic to battle with.”

  “Then why are we here?” she snapped as she righted her dress, covering her
legs.

  “We are here because if your brothers follow us, they’ll expect to use magic to save you. It gives us the advantage.”

  “Why do you hate us?” she asked, surprising herself with the question.

  “I have my reasons,” he said coldly. “Your kind destroys; it murders and rapes innocent creatures as if it is their right. It’s not; it’s time someone fought back against your family.”

  “So stealing innocent babes was your answer?” she demanded as she stood back up, her chest heaving with anger. “That makes you no better than us, doesn’t it?”

  “I am better than you,” he growled as he grabbed her arm and twisted it, pulling her closer. “I don’t murder innocent people, and I don’t slaughter entire races just because I have the power to do it.”

  “We have never slaughtered entire races, ever,” she smarted off. “That’s genocide, and it is forbidden by the Gods.”

  “Is it? And Alazander never killed any race, did he?”

  “My father was a monster,” she said, shocking him. “We are not him, nor did we condone what he did to others.”

  “But you didn’t stop him either, did you?”

  “And what could we have done?” she countered. “Murder him? We did that. Try to atone for his misdeeds? It’s been a century, and we are still trying to undo what he has done. You think he was unjust to his people? You didn’t have to live with him. You didn’t cower as he crept into the pavilion—I did.”

  “Save your sad story for someone who gives a shit, princess. It’s late; lie down and rest. We ride in a few hours, and I have no intention of holding you up so your pretty little ass doesn’t fall from the horse.”

  “Aww, you think my ass is pretty?” she said icily.

  “Rest,” he demanded.

  Ciara knelt down, ignoring the icy chill that crept into the tent from the open flaps. She scooted as far away from his side as she could, ignoring the cold side of the tent that she hugged to keep a safe distance from his own icy demeanor.

  It was freezing; she was starving from her own reckless need to control her life. She’d ignored the gnawing hunger that rocked through her day after day, unwilling to bring her lack of substance to her brother’s attention. Ryder had enough going on that he didn’t have time for her or her needs. She’d failed to point out that her feeder had gone missing weeks ago, and she hadn’t seen him since.

  Instead, she’d put everything she could into training, training for hours every day to prove she could join the Elite Guards and prove her place beside her brothers. She hated being weak, hated it more than when Ryder treated her as if she’d shatter like some weakling. She’d rebelled, going to party after party at the nightclubs, ignoring the rules he’d placed for her like some spoiled child.

  Freedom outside the pavilion had been foreign to her. The ability to come and go as she pleased was still new. After Ryder had killed their father, she’d been given a chance to leave it, but she’d been unable to do it. After an entire lifetime spent in the protection of the pavilion, it had been a hard thing to leave it.

  She’d been the only female in the Horde to transition into adulthood through illusions. For days she’d been left in the most excruciating pain, starved beyond what her mind could endure. Left to suffer as her father demanded, she was left pure, untouched by man until he could use her to gain power. The Fae used sex or emotion to feed, but during the transition, sex was a must. It was how you become an adult. Hours or days of mindless fucking as you shed your youth to become an adult, but not her. She’d been on the brink of certain death when Ryder had brought a man to her, one who faced death at the hands of her father if ever it was discovered he’d looked upon the women inside the pavilion.

  Max had been different from others. He hadn’t been demanding, or even tried to use her. Instead, he’d given her the illusion of sex, dreams of endless passion that had pushed away the pain, and given her body just enough to get her through her infinite torture alive. Since then, he’d been a constant in her life, her feeding companion who gave endlessly without complaint.

  And then just like that, he’d vanished.

  The bed moved, and Ciara tensed as Blane grabbed her arm, pulling her closer to him as he secured her wrist with his. Her body trembled as her eyes held his, unfamiliar with being this close to a man. Her eyes lowered to where his hand wrapped the rope around both of their wrists before he slid the end through, locking their hands together.

  “Is that really necessary? It’s not like I can run here,” she whispered as she licked her dry lips.

  “I don’t trust you.”

  “It forces us to be closer to each other than I like,” she continued, hoping he’d see the fruitlessness of what he was doing.

  He laughed, pulling her body closer to his. She went straight as a board, tensing as his heady scent tickled her nose and danced upon her senses. His hand rested on her hip, pulling her gaze to it with a daintily raised brow. She started to move her hand to remove his offending appendage, only for him to jerk it back.

  “We’re not going to get any sleep like this,” she insisted. His left hand was bound to her right, forcing them into an awkward embrace.

  “You might not, but I’ll sleep just fine,” he announced as he closed his eyes. She jerked his arm hard, pulling her own painfully as she did so. He opened one piercing blue eye and stared at her. “Fucking try me.”

  She rolled her eyes and exhaled deeply. She turned over, giving him her back as she did so. It worked to dislodge his hand, but just as a triumphant smile flitted across her lips, his arms wrapped around her, pulling her own arm with his.

  She huffed and turned to face him, realizing her mistake as her mouth hovered barely a breath away from his. She instantly looked away, ignoring his husky laughter that tickled her ear. His body fed heat against hers as if he was some sort of blazing fire. It comforted her, causing her anger to rise even further.

  “This isn’t working,” she expelled on a shaky breath.

  “Go to sleep, or I’ll fuck you until you’re sore and exhausted and the only bloody fucking thing you can do is sleep.”

  She tensed and then settled when he failed to move anymore. She lay there, unmoving as the sun rose outside the tent. It felt like hours before her lids grew heavy and sleep took her to its velvety depths.

  Something warm touched her lips, wet even. She moaned against it as pleasure flittered through her mind, her hunger ravenous as it gnawed at her insides. Her arms lifted, and then something touched her face as something else pushed between her open lips. Passion ripped through her, her body heated as pressure built between her legs. Her breathing grew heavy as her eyes opened to find the culprit of whatever dream was seducing her.

  The kiss deepened as the body above her grew heavier, parting her legs as his mouth continued to make love to hers ardently. Her mind was hazy, uncertain of what was happening to her. Consciousness came slowly, awareness even slower. The kiss slowed and then stopped as Blane lifted sleepy eyes to gaze down at her.

  He jolted back, a look of disgust pinching his features as he yanked her arm, pulling her with him as he rushed to get away from her.

  “What the fuck?” he demanded.

  “I’d like to know the same thing, asshole!” she snapped as she struggled to right her clothes as he continued to drag her across the bed with him. “Stop!” she shouted, pain burning her shoulder from where he jerked it. “You’re hurting me,” she admitted, tears of anger and embarrassment burning in her eyes.

  “Do you think you can seduce me to gain your freedom?” he snapped.

  “I didn’t kiss you, you kissed me!”

  “I would never stoop so low,” he argued.

  “No? Because you just did. I was asleep! I woke up to you all over my business!” He stared at her and shook his head disbelievingly. “
Who was on top of whom? Because it wasn’t me all shoving my tongue down your throat! It wasn’t me parting your legs. And it sure as shit wasn’t me who instigated it. I was sleeping just fine until you went all super-perv on me.”

  “Get ready to leave,” he growled.

  “I’d love to, but I’m bound and tied to a jackass!” she fumed, her violet eyes glowing in her anger. Her brands ignited, pulsing with power as she pulled it around her like a security blanket. His eyes slowly flitted over them and then landed on her face.

  “It’s time to go; the magic is coming back,” he growled as he moved to leave the tent, jerking her with him. “Bloody hell,” he snapped as he turned and undid the rope that bound her to him. “Be ready when I return.”

  “I’m ready, it’s not like I have anything to get ready!” she hissed. “Remember, unwilling traveling companion here, no packing needed.”

  “Roll up the furs and put the bed in the bag,” he retorted.

  “Now you think I’m your maid?” She jerked back, offended. “Put your own bloody fucking bed away! And next time, keep your voodoo lips to yourself, Blane. I’d rather kiss a pig than you.”

  “Is that so?” he laughed coldly. “Because I’m pretty sure your lips were against mine, and that was your tongue playing hellfire with mine, wasn’t it? I may have thought you someone else in my sleep, but you responded to me.”

  “Maybe I thought you were someone else, too!” she huffed as her fists balled tightly at her sides as her nails dug into the flesh of her palms.

  “Pack the furs or you can sleep tied to a tree at the next camp.”

  Ciara rubbed her eyes as she turned to look at the thick furs and the tiny bag. She’d never in her life packed anything into something else. She used glamour; it solved every problem because you didn’t have to pack shit when magic did everything for you.

  She listened as Blane’s heavy footsteps receded, leaving her alone to deal with the furs. Her hand lifted to her kiss-swollen lips, and she glared at the bed as if it was its fault. Maybe he was a seduction Fae, one skilled in the arts or trickery and seducing innocent women. He had to be; how could she respond to him like that? As if he was the fire which warmed her, and she, she who was ice melted to nothing more than a puddle at his arrogant feet.